Neon Lights
by Sprint to Finish
Summary: In which Iason contemplates the passion embodied by his mongrel. "Do you really believe your efforts will result in eventual freedom? You are merely struggling against the inevitable." Oneshot. No smut, but some slight torture and foul language. Iason introspective. Rated M to be safe


**A/N:** Welcome to my first published fanfic! Warning, there will be lots of swearing (because I don't think Riki is capable of speech without profanity). However, there is NO sex. I can't write smut, it's way too embarrassing for me. So if you're looking for steamy stuff, you're in the wrong story. This is mostly an introspective Iason fic. It's kinda angsty because of Riki's situation, but if you're into Ai no Kusabi, you already know this. Rated M because I'm paranoid. Hope you like it. Reviews and criticism welcome.

**disclaimer**: I do not own Ai no Kusabi, and I received no money for this work.

"Welcome home, Master Iason."

The soothing smell of soup and something roasting in the oven greets me along with my lovely furniture as the door to my loft slides open. It has been a long and tiring day, and although I'm sure my face is set in my usual impassive countenance, I know my furniture can sense my irritation.

I don't even spare the boy a glance as I hand him my heavy coat. My chair by the floor-to-ceiling windows beckons me, and I sit with a flourish, allowing my eyes to close for just a moment.

Cal is instantly at my side again, presenting my nightly mixed drink on a small platter.

"Your drink, Sir," he says softly.

My fingers reach automatically for the glass, and as I lift the cup my eyes move to study my young furniture. His eyes are shy, but they shine brightly with hope as my gaze settles on him. His adoration is amusing, considering his background. If only all mongrels could be so accommodating…

"Thank you, Cal. Your attentiveness is always appreciated."

A smirk tugs at my face as a smile and blush break out across his young face. He gives a small bow and then hurries back to the kitchen.

I'm feeling more peaceful now, back in the comforts of my own home. The cool richness of my drink is soothing to my throat and palate, satisfying enough to tug my lips almost into a smile. Almost. There are very few things I allow myself to smile about. Raoul, my good friend and most trusted Blondie, is one of the few I can trust to put me in a good mood, although today he proved that that trust goes both ways: He insisted on hounding me all afternoon on my choice in pets again.

My absence from the formal dinner gathering of all the Blondies last week due to the misbehavior- and subsequent punishing- of my newly acquired pet had caused a bit of an uproar among my fellow elites. The scandal was easily enough brushed from my shoulders, but Raoul, good intentions though he may have, has since seen fit to give me an extra earful every time we are alone. His objections had been more than plentiful when first I had brought my deliciously dark creature home, but with each punishment I was forced to inflict on the boy, Raoul's interference and judgmental scolding only increased. My day had already been stressful enough, with the supervision of the new pet center (which is disappointingly behind schedule), dealing with a lesser Ruby downstairs who had deemed it appropriate to question my authority, and sorting out a mess the lab techs had managed to create- I was plagued by a pounding headache by the time I took a break for lunch, when Raoul decided to grace me with one of his visits- as well as a predicted lecture.

_Flashback:_

"_Raoul, I know what you're going to say already, so do not even bother with it. I have an excruciating headache and do not wish to say something I will likely regret, or give an order to have you permanently removed from my sight should you annoy me further."_

"_Iason, please, just listen to reason." Raoul leaned forward in the chair across from me, causing me to raise an eyebrow. _

"_Listen to reason?" My eyes narrowed dangerously, and I felt a slim glimmer of satisfaction as Raoul's eyes narrowed back at me. "Are you suggesting, my friend, that I have acted irrationally? That I am behaving, to be vulgar, in a stupid manner?"_

"_Iason, you know that is not what I meant. However, you have to realize how your decision appears to the other Blondies."_

"_Has my decision to take a mongrel pet at all hindered the progress of Amoi's rise to the top of global society? Has my work suffered? Is Jupiter angry?"_

_I studied Raoul from across the table, my lunch forgotten as he knitted his perfect eyebrows together in worry. He had the best intentions, but it really was becoming bothersome to have my personal choice constantly degraded._

"_Iason, you yourself know that your work is flawless as ever. However, there are other areas of your life that are being affected by your choice to keep that mongrel by your side. For instance, you missed the dinner of the Blondies only a few evenings ago, and the reason you provided to explain your absence has caused many to raise their eyebrows. They are questioning you, Iason."_

"_You yourself have missed an appointment or two concerning our Blondie brethren, Raoul, so I do not believe it is prudent for you to be chastising me for missing a single dinner. This dinner was merely a social front anyway, something of little consequence."_

"_Iason, your excuse for missing the gathering was because you had to deal with that mongrel! You are Jupiter's golden child, and that will not change. However, your image in society and among the lesser ranks, even among the Blondies, will be tarnished if you permit that stain to be associated with you. Our Blondie brethren find it disgraceful that you have lowered yourself to associating with such a cretin. And for you to make it your pet! It's a mongrel, for Jupiter's sake! No one will permit their pet to socialize with it, and no Blondie will ever allow their pet to pair with it."_

"_Enough, Raoul. That mongrel has a name, and he has caught my interest. I do not want a simple-minded pet. Riki is here to stay, and that is final."_

"_Iason-"_

"_No, Raoul. I believe our discussion, or rather, your tirade, is over now. If you will be so kind as to let me have a moment's peace so I may finish my lunch now."_

_I expected him to huff a bit more, as I know Raoul is not one to give up easily. It was almost amusing to watch the conflict wrestle in his eyes, between wanting to say more and obeying my command. If I hadn't been so irritated, I might have found it fun to goad him a bit more._

"_I will expect a more detailed answer next time we talk, Iason."_

"_Are you ordering me around, Raoul? How unbecoming." I let the barest hint of a smirk show itself on my face as my friend huffed in annoyance._

"_You know I am simply looking out for you, Iason. There are some who would leap at any chance to exploit your personal life to their own advantage in an effort to bring you down. The Blondies already do not approve of your affiliation with that mongrel. If the other ranks were to hear about it, there would be chaos reigning in Amoi, and attempts to usurp your position would most probably surface with a vengeance."_

"_Thank you, friend. I appreciate your worry, but this is a matter that will not be going away. Even without Riki I face opposition. Getting rid of him would therefore serve no purpose. You and the other Blondies may think what you like, but Riki is staying. And that, my friend, is final."_

_End Flashback_

A frown threatens to distort my features, so I turn my eyes out the window, dismissing my good friend for now. It has been a long day, tiring in more ways than one, and right now I simply wish to relax and enjoy the comfort only home can bring.

Beyond my window, Amoi is covered in the darkness of night. My attention is caught by the two moons ascending further into the sky, dotting the balcony with moonlight. Glass in hand, I rise from my chair and move to stand at the window.

Through the darkness of the night the stars shine clear in the heavens. Though it is indeed a luxury to have a home at the top of Eos where the stars shine brighter and seemingly closer than anywhere else, those beckoning stars used to be something trivial- merely a backdrop to cover the view of my kingdom during the evening. I hardly noticed them before. It was only with the arrival of my pet that the stars caught my notice. He would spend as much time as possible on my balcony, eyes lifted to the distant city he would never belong to again, and his sighs would- without fail- draw his head back to gaze up at the endless void of darkness and glittering balls of fire. I would watch him every night from the living room as his eyes roamed the heavens, as though the stars could grant him answers to the questions cluttering his mind. And without fail, I would glance skyward as well, taking notice of those speckles that sparkle high in the sky and captivate my pet's attention. More than the stars, though, it was the shining lights of the far city that would draw his eye for hours on end.

Swirling the liquid in my glass, I move my eyes from the heavens to the scene beyond my balcony. In the distance, the city of Midas gleams with vibrant neon signs, brightly lit and seemingly unaffected by the darkness of the night as its artificial lights burn away the image of the stars overhead. It is certainly a city that never sleeps, the inhabitants too consumed with the allure of sex and drugs. Those bright and colorful lights seem to dance in the distance, as if claiming life itself. An amusing thought, indeed. I breathe in slowly, pondering the idea. Midas is a city that has only survived with the permission and help of Tanagura. Without the guidance of the Blondies, that pathetic city and its even more pathetic citizens would be lost. Those lights constantly shining in the shadow of Eos' might, as if to conquer the darkness that would smother them, and thus their existence: they shine weakly, numbly. They could never hope to truly defy the order of Amoi.

And yet…

My gaze travels to the edges of that bright city, where the night has truly claimed the buildings and occupants in shadowy ruin. Out there, in that darkness, is where the true defiance lies.

What would those pathetic Midians do should their precious neon lights go out?

A hum bubbles up my throat. It truly is a contemplative thought. Ceres should have been crushed long ago, and yet those disgusting mongrels have proven to be the most resilient of creatures. What is it about those dogs that drives them, when their city is forever darkened? With no light to their city, no citizenship, no respect, how can they keep fighting? Where does the will to defy such grand odds come from?

How can he…?

It is with this thought that I turn on my heel and make my way towards the back of the apartment. I can feel Cal watching me from the kitchen as I disappear down the hallway. He is worried, I know, and not for my own sake. This, too, is an amusing thought.

At the end of the hall to the right there is a door, plain and unequipped with a lock of any kind. All it takes is a simple touch of my palm to the scanner mounted in the wall for the door to easily slide open, which it does immediately with a soft swoosh. Of course, the door would have opened had a kitten held its paw to the smooth scanning surface as well. The door is insignificant, with no need to be locked down with a scanner except to prevent it from constantly opening every time someone walks down the hall.

I stride forward, purpose resounding in my steps. Now that I have entered, it seems as though something is pushing me from within to move faster. My feet almost ache to run, but that is uncharacteristic of a Blondie: Blondies do not show impatience, nor excitement, nor any of those other emotions which I certainly am not feeling. There is nothing in this bare room to warrant my attention anyway, as the room is nearly bare, simply lined with a few drawers and a table. I spare nothing a moment's notice, my feet already carrying me across the room.

At the end of the small room is another door, one which is different in every way from the first: It is made of a thicker metal than the door which leads to this room, and my eyes lock on it as soon as I enter the space. Unlike the first, this door is heavily secured; locked down, protected by a 13-serial code, hand and retinal scan. My fingers type the code without hesitation, and I force down the sudden flare of irritation as the retinal scan takes a moment to match my profile.

"Match… Iason Mink… Master of the house… Access granted."

I want to scowl at the robotic woman's voice, but it is beneath my Blondie dignity.

Cool air puffs out of the newly revealed hallway as the large door slowly slides open, and immediately my strides lead me forward, into the dark that is narrowly punctuated by small lights that twinkle into brightness as I pass beneath them on my journey. There are doors leading off to the sides, but I bypass them all until I come to the third door on the left. My heart has picked up its pace by now. Am I excited? Perhaps I am, if the smile threatening to reveal itself on my face is any indication. This emotion is still new to me, but somehow the thought of the dark-haired creature lying in wait behind this door never fails to draw it out in me. And this is only the beginning…

My fingers reach for the keypad to type in the code for disengaging the lock when the clashing of metal resounds from within the room. One of my eyebrows quirks. Is he fighting the chains again? Did I not remind him yesterday to stop yanking on them when Cal had to clean the cuts he inflicted on his wrists from pulling against the cuffs? I wait and listen a few moments. There is a muffled sound of his voice and I smile to myself in silent laughter. He is cursing. Such a vulgar creature. The chains rattle again and I sigh through my nose before entering the password. The keypad lights up and the door slides open, bathing the inner room with light from the hallway.

The dark room has gone silent, as though my defiant pet is suddenly holding his breath at my appearance. I want to chuckle at this thought, but I know this action would only serve to enrage my pet, and while that is an amusing pastime, it is not why I am here. Not today.

I step into the room and it is as if the spell has been broken. The metal chains rustle in the darkness and a low growl cuts through the air. I am assaulted by the smells perforating the cold cell: the stench of urine and sweat, the metallic tang of blood. Two small lights have awakened beside the door at my presence, and by this small light I can make out the shape of my mongrel chained to the back wall. His naked flesh is shivering- whether in fear, anger, or simply because of the chilled air I know not. As the door slides closed behind me and I glide forward predatorily, the heels of my boots echoing sharply in the cell, I can almost taste the sharp scent of his fear, along with his defiance.

It is invigorating to have this creature on edge before me, unwilling to be dominated.

He is silent for now as I draw closer. It is always a game between us two, a match to see who can overpower the other. Pathetic creature. To think he can dare struggle against a Blondie, against Iason Mink, and win.

I stop a mere foot away from him and simply look down on his scowling form. His long legs are drawn up to his body. His naked chest is heaving as though he has been exerting himself, bronze skin gleaming with sweat even in the cold air of the cell. I know his heart is hammering, and the knowledge reasserts my power over him. His thin body is trembling, justifiable in light of the low temperature and the fact that he is only wearing a black thong, but seeing him quiver before me heightens my pleasure. His dark head is lowered, hiding those eyes I long to see under a mop of unruly dark hair. I can almost hear the grinding of his teeth as he holds his voice back.

As my eyes travel down his muscled arms, which are flexed in anticipation and draped over his legs, I frown at the sight of blood running beneath the manacles attached to his wrists. It streams in thin rivulets down his arm, and a few drops lay splattered on the floor. My eyes narrow.

"I am beginning to question your intelligence, Pet, since you seem insistent upon damaging yourself with this meaningless thrashing about."

My voice, as seems to be the norm, unleashes the previously silenced beast within him.

"Shut the hell up, you fucking Blondie! If you'd fucking unchain me and let me go I wouldn't be having to fight to get free!" The venom in his snarled voice is palpable, and I can feel the fear in the air rapidly diffusing into rage. My euphoria at standing in the presence of my pet is tarnished a trifle as the headache I have been suppressing since arriving home chooses to swell again at his ringing curses.

As if to emphasize his point, the dark-haired youth pulls with a surprising amount of strength against the chains binding his wrists, causing the links to clatter noisily against each other. My eyes follow the line of the chain from his bloodied wrists to the bolt where they connect to the wall. The bolt looks completely un-phased by the attempts of the boy.

I return my eyes to the snarling mongrel.

"Do you really believe your efforts will result in eventual freedom?" My mind is back on the image viewed from my window. A darkened slum not even visible against the lights of an acknowledged city. "You are merely struggling against the inevitable. Those chains did not give in to you yesterday, and they will not give in to you today."

"Would you just shut up already?!" His dark eyes finally catch mine and my heart catches at the intensity of his gaze. This is what I was looking for: That spark of defiance in hard, obsidian eyes, raging with a life brighter than the mockery that is the light of Midas' neon signs.

"What do you want now, huh? You didn't torture me enough yesterday, did you? Here to kick me around some more? Go ahead, try it, Blondie. I'm more than ready to throttle you-"

Such indignation, such passion. How can this immature, frail human body contain it all? Does he not get tired of constantly fighting me? Of choosing to pick fights he cannot win, and for which there are deadly consequences?

The chains clink almost desperately as I merely stand and observe him. Where does that spark come from? It shines in the depths of his eyes, never wavering through all the torture and humiliation I have inflicted on him. It unnerves me, and at the same time holds me captive. This mongrel- that he should have this power- it makes me want to break him.

"Are you just going to stand there like an ass and ogle me? If you aren't letting me out of here and you have nothing to say then get out of here so I don't have to see your disgusting face."

"Such polite manners, Pet." His teeth grit as I speak. Always the same reaction, as though my very essence drives him insane. "We'll have to work on those if you plan to ever leave this cell."

"Just let me leave altogether and you won't have to listen to me cuss you out if it bothers you so much!"

"Do you still believe in this ridiculous idea that I will let you leave? How many times must I repeat myself before the message sinks into that thick mongrel skull of yours? You belong to me-"

"I don't fucking belong to anyone, you piece of Tanagura shit!"

My eyes narrow dangerously. "Such vulgarity, pet, will not be tolerated. You will speak to me with respect or not at all. Have you really already forgotten your latest punishment?"

My mongrel leans his head back, teeth clenching as he presumably thinks back to the punishment I had carried out on him only a week ago. It had been severe, lasting several days, and multiple times the young mongrel had lost consciousness, only to be reawakened by my vengeance. It had not been pleasant, for me or my pet. Since I do not take pleasure in having a wounded pet (contrary to what my lovely, hissing pet might believe), I had the mongrel chained for "quiet time," a reprieve of sorts to allow him to recover from his punishment. He had been slightly subdued the first day or so, but he never lost his snarl. And now his bite has returned full fledge as well. Clearly he has recuperated fully.

"You've kept me here long enough, Blondie." His voice is low, trembling, and it catches my attention. His eyes are downcast. Lift them up. Are they shining? "It's been enough. This isn't a fucking game! You can't keep treating me like this, like I'm your damn toy to be played around with. You want a fight and I'm game, I'll mess you up with one fist behind me and then be on my way, but this…" His voice is trembling. Rage? Sorrow? Fear? Then he raises his head and the vehemence in his eyes nearly startles my calm façade. "I'm not your stupid pet to be chained up for your sick pleasure. Let me go already!"

I can't help it. A smile tugs my lips. Truly, this is where the real life is.

My pleasure, though he cannot possibly fathom the thoughts behind it, seems to irk him even more, and now he is pulling at the chains, thrashing in a blind rage as though I have poked him with a red hot iron while he was slumbering peacefully.

My head gives a painful throb and I chuckle lowly. "Really, Pet, must you make a fuss out of everything?"

"Go to hell, you Blondie fucker! Let me go, let me go now!"

"It seems you are in no mood to enjoy the presence of my company," I sigh. "You can just sit there by yourself then. We'll have to make sure to work on your manners more when we resume your training."

"Screw that! You can take your training and shove it up your polished ass! You think you're so high and mighty, you god-damned prick. Just because you're the one holding the leash you really think it gives you the power to treat people like this?! You're just a fucking bully. Well you can kiss my ass you motherfucker!"

My headache flares acutely and my eyes narrow dangerously at my pet's heated words. "You will speak to me with respect, pet, or do you really wish to be punished again so soon?" My words are soft, deadly, promising. I make a motion as if to move my right hand and the boy flinches at my subtle movement. The muscles of his thighs tense in anticipation of ensuing pain. Good. So my previous lessons have not been forgotten.

The mongrel is snarling at me now, his body rigid with tension. His knuckles are white, hands clenched into tight fists.

Do I go on or not? I really had wished to give my feisty pet a reprieve, but his rebellion, topped on Raoul's lecture and the other stresses of the day, make me snap. This mongrel will learn his lesson. Even now, his eyes are narrowed warily as he studies me.

"Answer me, pet," I command softly, making up my mind. "Do you wish to be punished?"

The chains rattle as he battles with his fury and humiliation. The sight is amusing, the feeling of empowerment invigorating and almost overriding the irritation I felt at his exclamations.

"Well?"

"Fuck you, Iason!" he spits.

I stare at him impassively, disappointed. "That would be a yes." My left hand moves and I watch my mongrel: he is scared again, but not backing down. Curious.

I touch my ring and immediately the mongrel convulses as an electric current courses through his system. His ragged cry scores straight through my own body, and I can feel my own insides twisting as my mongrel writhes on the ground. Even as he struggles to hold himself up, I can see in the clenching of his teeth that he is trying even more to keep a hold on his dignity. Interesting creature.

Labored breathing surrounds us in the cold room as the shock dies off. He's in pain and he's angry, and he is now refusing to look at me.

"Bastard Blondie," he snarls in a tight voice filled with pain.

I wonder, will that light be there?

"I did not come down here to punish you, pet," I admonish him gently. I can see him visibly bristle at my words. "If you would learn to behave we could interact in a more civilized manner."

"Your idea of civilized doesn't appeal to me at all, Blondie." His words are ragged, as though he is still struggling for air. The steady clenching and unclenching of his fists draws my eyes. His muscles are taut, but slowly relaxing. "I'd still be chained in one form or another, and there is no _fucking way_ I'm going to let you control me."

As he says this, he raises his head a fraction and dark eyes capture mine, aggressive and searching, and still sparking with a light that almost seems to threaten me. It's amazing, really. With all the training I have put him through, all the nights filled with his endless screams, even when his eyes filled with insurmountable fear and helplessness, that small spark continued to shine behind his eyes. What is it? Is it purely the spirit of his defiance? His will to live? It's irritating. It's captivating_. It's interesting._

"Hmm, interesting." I nod my head a small fraction. "However, should you continue to struggle against me, I wonder how long you would last? I will never give you up, little mongrel, and I always get what I want."

"But _why_?!" The pain, the confusion, was evident in his voice. "Why does it have to be me? I'm a low-life mongrel, for Jupiter's sake! Go get yourself some frilly, genetically enhanced pet to toy with. Why do you insist on keeping _me_ chained up here?!"

"Why indeed?"

My soft answer only seems to enrage my beautiful mongrel even more. He spews a slurry of profanities as I turn and walk back to the door. I'm sure by now that Cal must have finished preparing dinner. No doubt he is pacing the kitchen, worrying over the state of his fellow mongrel. As I reach the door and it slides open at my touch, I turn back to face my fuming mongrel one more time.

"I will send Cal down to tend to your wrists again. Do try to be civil with him. I would hate to have further reason to punish you. If you cannot behave yourself when I graciously provide you with a break, perhaps we should continue with your training tomorrow."

"Go fucking die, you fucking Blondie!"

I sigh quietly. Really, does the boy not think at all?

"Tomorrow it is then. Have a good rest, pet."

I step out into the hall and the lights in the room go out, encasing my mongrel- who is still screaming profanities and rattling his chains- in complete darkness.

My mind is busy as I travel back to the warmth of the main house. Fastidiously I pick over every detail of our encounter- every shiver of his flesh, each tension of his muscles, every intake of breath, each word spat from his mouth. I analyze it all. But at the forefront of my mind is the image of his eyes, dark, defiant and vibrant, brimming with life and energy. How can so much passion be contained within that fragile body? And the question that truly teases me: _Why has it not been stamped out?_

Not that I would want my fiery mongrel to lose his spark completely, but I want to control him so that passion, that life, burns only for _me_. His Master.

I smile slightly as I reach the kitchen area. Fully tame a mongrel? What a silly notion. Even more ridiculous is the idea of breaking the boy chained in the back room, the boy whose eyes continue to spark with more defiance than the neon lights of Midas could ever hope to achieve.

_End_


End file.
